


FIVE TIMES ANDERS WAS COCKBLOCKED (And the one time he wasn't...)

by MatthewTheFadeStrider



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: (that's a tag), A Wizard Did It, Anders Needs a Hug, Anders has trouble getting laid sometimes., Anders sometimes just has no sense, Cockblocking, Correction: Anders Needs Sex, Hawke is Humorous, Justice Does Not Approve, M/M, Mage Apprentices Have No Sense of Timing, Mages vs. Templars, Magic Made Them Do It, Sandal Doesn't Get Boundaries, Spoilers for Awakening and II, damn the battlements, five + 1, sparklefingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6330916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatthewTheFadeStrider/pseuds/MatthewTheFadeStrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gifted to my personal favorite Anders/Hawke writer - and the one who inspired me to join Archive in the first place....////</p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>Anders hasn't exactly had the best experience trying to get laid. Don't get me wrong, he had his tumbles back in the Circle, but even then it wasn't easy to lift up the robes and go (with the Templars constantly glowering over his shoulder because of his constant attempts to run)...</p><p>But when he left, Anders always found himself always in a sticky situation - and not in the way Anders would prefer you take that statement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIVE TIMES ANDERS WAS COCKBLOCKED (And the one time he wasn't...)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spicyshimmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyshimmy/gifts).



> I had so much fun with those tags. 
> 
> Did you know "A Wizard Did It" isn't a tag? Seriously, guys. Get this fixed- LOL
> 
> \----
> 
> So this turned into some-what of a life journal for Anders in parts. Somewhat.

Anders found out that the ideals of shooting lightning at fools and finding a good girl was just not in the cards for him. In fact, he found himself more inclined towards males, before everything was said and done. But one woman in particular had sparked his interest during his time in the Fereldan Circle of Magi. She was the only thing keeping him quiet like a good little Andrastian for a time. He had swore himself to dare not to love, yet here he was - swooning over her like a love-sick puppy. She had beautiful locks of gold, not unlike his own except for being lighter with streaks of black. The Mage had beautiful blue eyes that, when exposed to the little sunlight that shined down in the occasional window, seemed almost like a crystalline pool of water - swimming with colors reflected from the baby blue sky above the waves. He remembered her voice, calm and serene mostly, sharp as a whip when she was angry, and soft like a sheet of satin when gifting his ears quietly behind doors.  
  
He remembered the first time things hadn't gone as he planned. It was with the precious jewel of a female mage he'd come to know. Anders had convinced her to leave, a plan in motion when they'd had their phylacteries destroyed. Unfortunately, they didn't get far before the Mabari's started tracking their scents. They'd gotten complacent, of course, thinking since they were free of the blood that bound them to the circle's knowledge they could move slower across the land in lazy unison. When they camped for the night, Anders had found himself closer to her than he ever imagined. It was her first time and the night was just right, stars shimmering above like the embers that lifted from a small fire (in front of them). All in all, the atmosphere was one of legend and mayhaps that's what drove the two young lovers to end bound with robes slowly slipping from their backs.   
  
The taste of flesh was sweet and her lips were strawberries to the male mage's senses. He remembered vaguely realizing what they meant in stories when they spoke of the main character's head swirling as a result of a kiss. He'd never felt so alive to that point. Sure, he'd had his occasional hallway resigned tumbles, pressing against the wall flat so that the knight commander or any close Templar could not be alerted. He remembered his head disappearing into more than one robe before, and assuredly some heads under his own. Sometimes he remembered being pulled into a bed, at night, when the firelight nearest to the apprentice beds was flickering into embers.  
  
Yet, this occasion seemed special.  
  
It was a precious diamond gem in comparison to the small tiger-eye fragments he'd experienced before.  
  
He was so engrossed in the sensations that he didn't notice until the Templars were on them, making clangs with their armor and disgusted noises. They cleared their throats with awkward glances to the forest and each-other. It was so embarrassing, honestly, to be caught with your metaphorical pants down. The Mabaris tracking them were even gagging openly, some scratching their ears, one in particular took a fine interest in a butterfly going past.

His love for the female Mage, Rose, hadn't gone over well in the years to come. Upon their return, the rumors had spread like wildfire. The mages constant prodding questions to both of them and Templar disapproval was all too much for Rose's tender heart to take. She couldn't handle all the scrutiny, or the pressure of being forced away from Anders (and watched closely if in inevitable proximity), and the knowledge that Anders would eventually get hurt trying to be with her (because he was a rebel to the core) inevitably drove her into asking for the Rite of Tranquility. The pressures of the Circle driving Rose to her fate was the first stepping stone in Anders' inevitable bitterness towards the Templars.

 

* * *

 

The second time Anders was caught with metaphorical pants down was a year after Rose's transformation. Karl Thekla was an elder Mage whom happened to be Anders' friend at the time. Friends are as friends go, in the circle, they'd had their share of experience with other Mages, but Anders was growing more affection towards Karl. It was especially so after the man was there to comfort him post-Rose's Tranquility. Anders couldn't stand the thought of Lilly and her emotionless voice, the stare of those two cerulean eyes, once holding waves of affection,  reduced to lifeless orbs without color - and only lifeless celerity. He could barely even stand to linger in the stock room these days. When asked by an Enchanter or Senior he would go and fetch something. He found himself unable to live with the guilt of being in the same building sometimes, and would subsequently run. Someday, he wished to be free.  
  
Karl wasn't too far off from his personal views and so they got along in political debates of philosophy. The two became close fast when first meeting, and their relationship held steady until Anders felt it prudent to open his heart after Rose's unfortunate fate. At the time, he approached him with a weary smile and a hearty, if awkward, laugh that spread to the older man's features shortly. "It took you long enough." He'd remarked when Anders' speech was over, and the two embraced.  
  
They'd given into the door leading towards Karl's private quarters, the two falling back on the nearest piece of furniture with no mind to what it quite was. They knew this needed to be quick, and quiet. That was how it went in the circle.  
  
As Anders felt the other man's palm sifting his robes apart, spreading his legs and getting himself in a position to pleasure the blonde an awkward squeak and book-drop led to several events in short succession. First off, Anders made a noise that sounded like he'd just inhaled helium, second - Karl jerked up, almost hitting his head on a near bookshelf (beside the bed) and cursed loudly, and the third was the Apprentice covering his eyes quickly with a slap of skin.  
  
The apprentice, luckily, was old enough to know that the Maker had a sense of humor sometimes, apologizing awkwardly and trying to back out of the room without his books or the information he needed for his assigned experiment. Thekla was certainly blushing through his beard, and Anders certainly looked like someone had filled his face with an apocalyptic form of a firestorm spell, but the two cleared their throats and Karl went to do some collateral damage control.  
  
Karl and Anders didn't really talk after this for a while, and Anders honestly couldn't blame him. This entire situation would sort itself in time, but right now it was awkward and rumors were already floating midst the circle.  
  
"They have far too much time on their hands...huuhh...why me? Why is it always me?" Anders found himself asking a blushing version of his mirror image one morning after.

 

* * *

 

When Anders left the seventh time (knowing full well if he was caught again it would probably be the noose for him, and not just isolation) it was partially resulting from Karl's idea of a 'temporary break'. Thelka knew the rumors circulating the circle would get them in shit deep before he and Anders got a chance to run. But Anders couldn't bear the thought of it and fled before the plan was fully in motion.  
  
Which, of course, is when he started towards Lothering. He didn't stop until he made it there, and even then he only paused for a short time. He didn't like Lothering, much, too many Templars wandering. The closest place to a hiding spot was inside the local tavern, Dane's Refuge. He found it ironic that it was titled as a refuge, given his hiding there. An occasional Templar was in there, but they were too drunk to notice the male with robes hiding in the corner. They were too drunk to recognize the blonde as anyone aside from yet another drunken person or low life just trying to make himself seem small and insignificant. At this time, Anders found himself bitter towards everyone aside from the small waitress who gave him pitying eyes when she passed him (on occasion). All that could be seen of him was a small strand of blonde hair, and small tawny eyes that peaked out from beneath the hood. He was in a small corner of the tavern for a time, a table that nobody wanted to sit at because the seat stunk of cheap swill (as if it had been spilled on more than once) and there was a constant prescience of a VERY bad bard that sang loudly beside it.  
  
Sometimes his voice was shrill enough one would have to cover his ears and turn away just to bare down on it. Anders found himself uncomfortable, sticky, and on the verge of throwing up by the time he decided to move on. He passed by a dark haired elf, a Gothic looking woman (with ominous yellow eyes), and a warrior in Splintmail on the way. The elf was obviously Dalish, the markings on her face like trees that stretched over her forehead. The three were a band of misfits, all of them completely different than the other. A small Mabari trailed them, much to Anders' distaste. He hated dogs, preferred suitable company like Mr. Wiggums. They were having some sort of conversation Anders caught only a short jest of.  
  
"Why do you always go on about how stupid I am?" The warrior asked, then turned towards the elvan female, obviously their leader, "I'm not stupid...am I?"  
  
But the Gothic woman interrupted before the young elf could respond to the rhetorical question, "If you need to ask the question..."  
  
"Because it hurts my manly feelings, you know. All of them..."  
  
As their voices began fading into the Tavern, Anders snickered. Those people seem like a merry bunch, honestly they do. It almost made his heart hurt, longing for freedom to walk with friends and joke so openly. Though something also told him that that warrior and woman weren't likely friends, it still made him imagine a life he could have. He was used to the drill, and waited for the caravan he'd spotted to get some-ways out of town before quietly sneaking up on back and making himself blend in behind their cargo. Frowning, he watched the city fade from view as he headed onwards.  
  
An entire year this went on, and he'd heard news that Lothering was destroyed not long after he left. As Darkspawn filled the roads, he found himself more inclined to do work where he could find it and quickly move on before questions were asked. He hated it, because mostly it involved getting him filthy. Once he even ripped the bottom of his black cloak, which he promptly whined about to nobody for an entire day afterwards. It was what he had to do to evade the Templars however...  
  
Yet, even as hard as he worked to stay out of sight, he eventually knew his aching body was going to collapse if he kept traveling much further. He couldn't imagine how far he'd made it. The Darkspawn were fewer by the day, which told him he was at least on the outskirts of Fereldan, if not out of it. One day he gave into temptation, and stayed with a nice farm family who offered him a job. The family was of a kind sort, or so he thought. The farm family was comprised only of three. A mother, a father, and a small child whose knees were dirty and eyes were wide. He remembered getting a little too drunk and passing out...  
  
Next thing he knew he was in the back of a caravan, clapped in irons. He realized that they must have discovered his being a mage and called the Templars on him. He found himself frowning at the road he watched behind him. He complained quietly, to himself, that the floor was cold - and hard - once or twice, but he knew if he complained openly to the Templars they'd probably make it worse for him. They ended up stopping at the nearest keep, which walls were crumbling and smelled foul. He was placed in a cage when they came, snarling white faces with bloody black fingers and black bile running across them from wounds that he dare not question. He fought with resilience to defend himself. He managed to survive just in time for a young female elf and her companion to come skidding in.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere outside an owl who'd, a mouse scurried and was caught with a swift motion, while far away a small herd of horses trotted along together, settling into the grass under the night stars. They pranced, they danced, they rutted, and one ate lightly, grinding the greens with the side-ways chewing. Somewhere closer, in the stables of Vigil's keep, the stable-boy was staying later than usual tonight, brushing the horses hair and tending to their hooves after a ride of the militia. The groundskeeper was settling into his bed, having returned from the final clippings of the day. Meanwhile, a dim light was cast upon the room from the window overhanging the pale room, and from a small fireplace from the left-hand-side. Inside vigil's keep, in the tallest tower, Anders and the Gray-Commander lay in tenderness. A soft caress from the human's mouth upon the neck of the elf, while she ran her hands down his bare chest.  
  
Interruptions were seemingly inevitable lately, "Maybe you should leave him outside." Mahariel suddenly said, her voice light. She rarely spoke, but when she did it was beautiful to his ears. "I'm sure that we don't want to ruin Ser Pouncey's precious innocent kitten mind with the dirty images of human and elven primal instincts. He's far to many months young for the talk yet."

Anders let out a soft laugh, running his left hand up the female's leg, "Are you sure? We could have it early and, within a matter of months, have cute little yellow kittens running around! Maybe we can give one to Nathaniel. That guy needs a sense of humor. A kitten is sure to lighten him up! Cats have their ways, you know."

The elven woman looked even more amused, "I'm not sure they'd appreciate little kitties running around this place, Anders. As it is, I'm already on a tight rope for giving you Pounce."

"You're the gray commander! You should take advantage of it! At the end of the day, you can do whatever you want! Well, as long as that doesn't include killing people and taking over provinces in a vicious blood-thirsty manner."

She just stared at him with the look of a woman who was bemused, and nothing more.

He quickly cleared his throat, "...I know you'd never-I'm getting the couch tonight, no matter what I say, aren't I?"

"You are now." Vila Mahariel said over her nose at him, rolling over.

"Andraste's KNICKER WEASELS! Come on Pounce..." The small kitten mewled as he was picked up, climbing up on Anders' shoulder via the robes that had to be pulled back on prior.

 

* * *

 

 

The Gray Commander got back together, shortly thereafter, with Zevran. Meanwhile, Anders brooded...  
  
He was the one who stumble-fucked himself into this situation without tact, which he should have more of, but yet here he sat in irritation. This particular morning, he happened to be brooding with his face pressed tightly into a book about Lyrium. He wasn't paying attention to the words, just reading something because he was pissy. Nathaniel had approached him that late morn. He usually posed himself by the doorway, leaning on the wall whilst he waited for the Warden commander to pick the three to accompany her on her way out. It usually consisted of her, Anders, Ohgren, and Nathaniel though she took Justice, Sigrun, and Velanna prospectively on occasion. More often than not, if she didn't take Nathaniel either Justice or Sigrun was there to replace. Rarely she took Velanna, mostly because the two had gotten into a debate on how best to deal with humans and bring their race back to respect.

They were touch and go those two. One would think they'd be on better terms than that, given who they are, but then again - even Dalish were Saints and Jerks just like they were...and Velanna was certainly no Saint. [See End Note:1]

Nathaniel caught his attention, because normally they (more often than not) fought viciously. Even if they had their moments, they tended to argue over certain fundamentals. And if Anders was honest with himself, he'd say that Nathaniel was at blame for 99 + 1% those arguments. At the time, Anders had Ser-Pounce-A-Lot on his lap, curled up purring contently as he laid underneath, and occasionally batting at, the pages of the book he was reading halfheartedly.

"Ah, the Howe! Hoooowe can I help you?" Anders put up a facade, flinching at the pun.

Nathaniel also flinched at it, but for once didn't groan, sigh, tsk, or verbally lecture him on it. "The Warden Commander is taking Ohgren, Sigrun, and Justice out for today's ventures..." He began.

Untimely, Anders said, "So I heard." In a grumble, the reminder of his leader painful. He looked into his book, Amber eyes darkening significantly. "And?" He took a calculated stroke of Pounce's head, the kitten batting at yet another page, his paws trying to grab and take the book closer to bite it. "Is that book bothering you, Sir-Pounce-A-Lot?" He cooed, forgetting Nathaniel's prescience for a moment, "Is it taking away your Andy-wandy's attention? You get that mean book, Pounce~!" The kitten mewled again.

Nathaniel, despite himself, was trying not to smile. He didn't normally have a sense of humor, but even the most serious man in the world would have laughed at Anders' voice in that moment. "I was inquiring as to whether you would do me the service of...joining me in one of my own missions."

Anders looked up, wondering if he had suddenly taken a leave to madness. "As long as we don't have to go to that dreadful Marsh place...or any place really..."

Nathaniel sighed, pinching his nose, "It's not to far." He said exasperatedly, bad at this game.

 

* * *

 

 

The night was beautiful in it's way, but Anders refused to look to far beyond his nose due to the long way down and long view out. It gave him a sense of vertigo if he looked to long. He constantly kept a quiet view upon a particular square, or his hands, or even his robes. But he'd glanced, and he'd seen a dizzying long view out to the, green and yellow, lands beyond, of Amaranthine. "I used to come up here as a child..." Nathaniel said, turning and leaning on the edge of the battlements nostalgically, "When I was but a boy, at night, I used to imagine the stars when they'd flicker, were actually griffins coming down from the heavens to join us once more." The Rogue's long black hair swayed slightly, bright eyes watching the moon as it cast it's glow down upon them. The crescent phase illuminated one side in it's own bright shape.

"That is a long way down..." Anders swayed as he finally gave it another glance, "It's almost sickening..."

Nathaniel chuckled, turning his attention over to the other, "You wouldn't have been very good at riding Griffins, would you?"

"Ugh...I don't like nature. Those feathers would have gotten all over me, and then my robes would have gotten crinkled, I'd never find a comfortable place, and I would constantly be concerned of falli-" He was cut off by the kiss that took him by surprise. His eyes fluttered closed, somehow, he reached upon the cheek of Nathaniel, and ran his hands down the male's jaw.

Suddenly, it occurred to him he was pinned against the battlements, as Nathaniel's hands were on his body, in his hair, against him, slipping into the bottom of his robes as Nathaniel's husky voice said, "You said once that these robes were meant for an up and go...show me how it's done..." The words made Anders pant, and he found himself actually propping up on the battlement edge desperately. "Spread your legs for me, Anders...good...ah..." Anders cupped the back of Nathaniel's head as the male disappeared beneath his robes, pulling down the small cloth that held back the straining erection to cup his mouth around-

Anders gasped loudly, it had been a long time since someone lavished this onto him, and subsequently the sensations hit him hard when it did. But that gasp turned different when he felt himself slip backwards, arms flailing as he started to fall. Nathaniel had him held by his robes just in time, Anders panicking quietly before his hands landed around the other to shift him back up onto the rightful positioning. When he stopped shaking he felt the other laughing out loud. "F-f-finally found a s-sense of h-humor?" Anders stumbled through the joke, heart rate still high.

"Hard not to when you about fall off from just a simple blow-job." He pointed out, "I'm not sure you're quite ready for this yet, shall we just go back to your quarters, or mine, and cuddle for a while after this excitement?" Nathaniel, for once, was amused.

Anders made a face, "Fine." He muttered irritably, for two different reasons entirely.

 

* * *

 

 

Andel Hawke was a sweet male; he was kind, humorous, hansom, patient...all the things Anders could have dreamed of. He swore the male was too good to be true, and now here he was laying in his arms with the intent to deliver. Dear god he hoped this wasn't a dream, but lord knows he didn't have to worry about someone pointing at his pants being gone in this situation if it was. Not that this was a nightmare by any stretch, if anything, the romantic atmosphere with the candle on the desk (across from them) and the fireplace casting shadows upon their forms had grandeur, even for his standards.

This was it, he thought...no...he hoped.

Normally, he was the bottom in same-sex relationships, but Hawke was light weight compared to him. He had a lithe form with strong fingers, a mage with both femininity and masculinity comprising a perfect symphony into one blonde glory. He was the only one who looked at Anders and truly understood the plight of the mages, the one who was nonjudgmental to his choice to aid Justice...that decision which Anders himself even looks back upon and regrets. Andel was the type of man who could look past your flaws and try to find the best in you. He was the type who would go out of his way for you if you asked, so long as you honored him in return. He was the type who only asked for respect of others, and if he didn't garner it he didn't judge as long as you didn't openly attack him for it.

That was one of the things Anders loved so much about him.

Anders pressed his lips down against the male's neck, trailing his lips up the curve and onto his jaw, slowly towards the mouth surrounded by stubble. He took it, letting his hands wander until suddenly there was a loud crash, and the door came banging open with Andel's dog Maelstrom barking up on the bed. Just behind him was Sandal, who was giggling and clapping, "Rawf, rawf, roof!" He said to the Mabari, "Yay! I like the doggie!"

Anders was beat red, covers thrown barely enough to cover their chests. At least their privates were covered, thank the Maker.

"Sandal! Oh I do apologize MEEESSSssss.." It seemed Bodahn even was appalled and embarrassed at what they'd stepped in on, and called his son back.

Andel barked at the Mabari to follow Sandal, whom whimpered promptly and caused Hawke to soften. But Anders wasn't so easily dissuaded, crossing his arms. "Go on ya big slobbering thing. Go...chase a stick...or something." The long haired blonde glared over the top of his long nose at the Kanine, causing him to slowly whimper out the door.

"Did you have to be so mean to him?" Hawke said.

Anders just reached out and sat a hand on his shoulder with a sigh, "Ya know, if we're ever going to adopt, you're going to have to be consistent with them." He laid himself back down, stretching out his arms to settle around Hawke's form when the other settled in as well.

"A-wha-now?" He barely had his mouth around the sentence, making Anders smirk and shake his head.

"Kids, Love." He said, kissing his forehead and yawning. "Maybe we should just sit here and wait for now..."

Hawke was left to stair wide eyed at the ceiling. "Kids....?" He finally managed, as if it was foreign to him.

 

* * *

 

 

Here they sat on the crates on the port side of the boat, watching as a burning Gallows disappeared into the darkness. Smokey clouds slowly fogged around the flames, causing them to blur into nothing. Neither Anders, nor Hawke, said a thing. Isabela continued to steer the ship (showing a fascinated Marrill how to do so all the while), Varric took up drinking quietly with a couple members of the crew down below, and all the while the two silhouetted figures were side by side, watching their home (for the past 10 years) go up in flames. I suppose it wasn't much of a home, but home had kind of been where their feet was landing for the both of them for a while. Hawke felt a sense of deja vu hit him when he realized that he'd watched Lothering burn behind him like this when he'd traveled towards Kirkwall, too.

Seemed some time ago.

It was.

"Oh, Love. It was your birthday." Anders suddenly said, looking defeated. He was worn down after everything that happened, and that just happened to pop into his mind.

Hawke was leaning against him, "Was." He said in confirmation, "But not anymore..." He closed his eyes, "...it's been such a long day I'd prefer to forget that aspect."

Anders' mouth twisted, "It feels...all wrong. This day, Andraste's Knicker weasels." He rubbed his neck.

"Knicker weasels?" He chuckled, "Just for that, you get a pity kiss."

"Stop that." He said seriously, "I don't feel-mmm..." When they parted, "...okay, scratch that...I do feel...up."

"Emphasizing for cross reference?" Hawke said with a light in his eye, despite the fatigue. "You know...we might be able to sneak into the hull without Marill and Izzy noticing?"

"Izzy?"

"Nickname, not important." Throwing his arm out like he was batting a fly away, the male started onto his feet. He clasped Anders hand and led him down the stairs, out of the sight of the soft yellow glow beyond the mists. Creaking resonated their footsteps all the way down to the hull where they both ended up landing in the First Mate's quarters which Hawke had been stationed to. "Come on, Anders..." He said deviously, "Hurry and I'll let you ride my ship."

Anders rolled his eyes, but went along with it. "Oh great Pirate Lord. How could one resist such a large boat?" When Hawke raised an eyebrow Anders smiled with the response, "What? I was worse than you were once, too, ya know. I know my way around the bedroom just fine. They don't call me Mr. Sparklefingers for nothing." Holding his fingers up with a glistening lube shining in the dim candle light, near to, the old Anders lit up his features. There was a smile so supremely cocky it would have taken Hawke back to Anders' days as a warden if he would have known him then.

"I believe the word is suave." Hawke said with a twinkle in those bright eyes.

"Well done, my scholar. Now, shall we enter the bedroom and dispense with all cognitive thought?" This time he lifted him up, carrying him into the room and wishing silently that he had a 'do not disturb for years' sign for the door.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE 1: Okay, so I don't normally interrupt the continuity of the story-line for Author Notes, but this one was one I HAD to get off my chest. I felt like Awakening was the fall of good companions. Valenna was the start. She was a total bitch! I tried being kind to her, and I even had Mahariel, yet once she stepped on the toes of Anders that was it for me. I was just like "Fuck You" and refused to do anything with her after that. I know they were trying to do. They were trying to make a different Morrigan, but they failed. Morrigan was at least a fun character in her way, especially with the interactions between her and Alistair - and her relationship with the Warden (especially when you were elven or a mage) was precious, even if it wasn't one of romance. 
> 
> Then came Witch Hunt. I expected way more, but the only redeemable part was seeing Morrigan again. Litterally, those two companions gave me a head-ache. Especially that FUCKING MAGE. God, I HAD A HEAD-ACHE by the end of that DLC. I literally had SO MUCH of a HEADACHE I quit playing Dragon Age for two months. That's why I had a leave of absence these past few months.
> 
> Okay...okay...I'll shut up now. I feel much better after that rant.
> 
> Playlist while writing:
> 
> 1\. Gotye: Heart's A Mess  
> 2\. Pentatonix: Somebody That I Used To Know  
> 3\. Flesh: Simon Curtis
> 
>  
> 
> \-----
> 
> Ha ha. The best smutty fanfictions leave it up to the imagination, in my personal opinion.


End file.
